


Imagination in the Dark

by MidnightFragments



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Imaginary Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2954780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightFragments/pseuds/MidnightFragments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis meet when they're kids and become friends. Over the years, they grow closer and closer to each other, and even develope a romantic relationship at some point. When Harry meets Niall, his world turns upside down.</p><p>Or the one in which Harry is really lonely so he creates an imaginary friend and believes him to be real, Louis is that imaginary friend, and Niall is the one who makes him figure it out eventually. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagination in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> This is my first fic in this fandom, and it'd mean the world to me if you took your time to read and leave a comment.  
> Niall was never meant to be part of this story, but then I drowned myself in a sea of Narry fics and instead of the angsty 2K fic I was gonna write, this thing happened.  
> I hope you like it!
> 
> This wasn't beta'd (if anyone wants to do it for me now just say!) and English isn't my native language, so please forgive any mistake I may have made.  
> I have, like, fifteen multichaptered fics I'm determined to write for this fandom, so if anyone is willing to be my beta, you can contact me either here on on my [tumblr](http://worldof1dfanfiction.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Title is from a song with the same title by Kimeru, and the lyrics in the beginning are a translation of some of the song's lyrics I found on the internet.

_“My imagination runs wild, until I think I can hear you sigh._

_With a sweet, improper kiss, I sink deep into darkness._

_My imagination goes wild, until I think I might hurt someone._

_I want to be locked inside your beautiful heart.”_

**_May 1999._ **

A warm hand touches Harry’s shoulder, startling him. The five-year-old curly boy raises his head from his hand and looks up, finding another boy smiling at him. He has a light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes, shining with kindness. “What happened?” the boy asks Harry.

Harry wipes his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “They said I couldn’t play with them,” he tells the boy.

He gets a wide grin in return. “That’s okay. You can play with me.” The other boy grabs Harry’s hand and leads him in the direction of the empty playground. “My name is Louis. What’s yours?”

“Harry Styles.”

“Let’s be friends, Harry.”

Harry smiles, and the boys spend the next two hours together.

*

Harry picks at his food without appetite. His mother notices and puts her hand on his arm. “Is everything alright, darling?” she asks quietly. “Why aren’t you eating your food?”

“Mom, why did you marry daddy?” he asks her.

She raises her eyebrows. “Well, darling, when two people love each other they sometimes decide to share their lives together. Your father and I wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“How do you know you love someone?”

“I knew I loved daddy when I realized he made me happy, and I always wanted to be next to him,” she says with a smile.

Harry stays quiet for a few moments. “I will marry Louis!” he suddenly declares, feeling confidence and joy.

Anne laughs and ruffles his hair. “Who is this Louis?” she asks.

“He is my friend.”

“Alright honey. You can marry Louis when you’re older. But now you need to finish your food.”

 

**_April 2000._ **

Harry has been restless all day, waiting for school to be over so he can take Louis home to finally meet his parents and his sister. His mother has wanted him to bring Louis over for months. She got worried when she couldn’t reach Louis’ parents to ask them for permission, but Harry asked Louis and the older boy promised him he could come.

When the day ends he meets Louis outside the school gates. Harry takes his hand in his and leads him down the street and then through two more until they reach his home.

“Mummy is so excited to meet you,” he tells Louis as they make their way towards the front door.

“I want to meet your family too,” Louis says, squeezing Harry’s hand.

They enter Harry’s house and kick their shoes off before heading down the corridor and into the living room. “Mum, we’re here,” Harry calls.

His mother gets out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a small towel. “Welcome home darling.” She looks around. “Where is Louis?” she asks.

Harry frowns and looks to his side. Louis is still standing there, smiling at Harry’s mother with a coy smile and his hands behind his back. Harry looks back at his mother. “He is right here, mum.”

Anne’s eyes widen. “Darling, can you hold Louis’ hand?” she asks gently and takes another step into the living room.

Harry does as she asked. Anne drops the towel and sits down, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

 

**_July 2000._ **

Anne crouches in front of Harry in the narrow corridor and puts her hands on his shoulders. Harry’s father is still in the car, waiting for her to return. “Darling, do you know why you are here?”

Harry nods. “Someone wants to talk to me.”

She smiles. “Right. And you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, okay? Just talk to him like he is your friend.” When Harry nods again, she continues. “You will talk to him for an hour, and then daddy and I will come to pick you up.”

She knocks on the door next to her and greets the man who opens it. He has ginger hair and a pair of huge glasses that cover half his face, and a friendly smile is plastered on his face. Harry likes him already.

“Mrs. Styles?” he asks.

Harry’s mother smiles kindly. “Yes, it’s very nice to meet you,” she says and shakes his hand.

The man looks at Harry. “And you must be young Harry, am I right?” He crouches, just like Anne did earlier. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Harry. My name is Robert.”

“Hello.”

Robert looks at Anne and stands up again. “Shall we start?”

She nods. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

She leaves, waving goodbye at Harry, and Harry follows Robert inside and looks around. The curtains on the windows are pulled back, letting the bright sunlight wash the room with warmth and light. Three large bookshelves stand one next to another by the left wall, full with heavy-looking books and some pictures of a happy family Harry assumes is Robert’s. On the other walls there are more photos and some landscapes paintings, and in the middle of the room stand two single couches and a regular sized one.

The place gives the six-year-old boy a feeling of comfort and home, even though it looks nothing like his room at home. He gulps and looks up to Robert.

Robert smiles back at him and gestures towards the couches. “Have a seat, Harry. Let’s talk a little.”

Robert sits in one of the smaller couches, and Harry looks back and forth between the other two. After a short hesitation he takes the other small one, not wanting to feel small on the bigger couch.

“How old are you, Harry?” Robert asks.

Harry straightens his back. “I’m six,” he says with pride.

Robert’s mouth stretches into a nice smile. “Such a big boy already, aren’t you?” He claps his hands and relaxes into the cushions. “You go to school?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “I am,” he says, feeling his lips stretching into a small smile.

“Do you like it there? Do you have any friends?”

“I have one friend. He doesn’t go to my school, but I see him every day. I love him.”

“What’s his name?”

Harry’s smile grows wider as he answers, “Louis.”

“And where does Louis study? How old is he?”

Harry narrows his eyes and the smile fades off his face. “Why are you asking so much about him? Do you want him to be _your_ friend? You can’t have him! He’s _my_ friend!”

Robert raises his hands like Harry’s father does when he wants to apologize. “I didn’t mean to take Louis from you. I just want to know.”

Harry looks at him suspiciously for another moment before relaxing his shoulders. “He is eight.”

Robert nods. “And you said you loved him?”

At this Harry smiles again and nods enthusiastically. “I’m going to marry him when we’re older. Mum says that people who love each other get married.”

“Have your mum met Louis?”

Harry frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “She doesn’t like him,” he says bitterly. “Every time he comes over she acts like he isn’t even there. Louis talks to her and she doesn’t answer. And she doesn’t want him to come over at all.”

 

**_March 2001._ **

Harry’s parents fight a lot these days. They try to do it without him and Gemma noticing, but they do. Gemma always goes to her friends’ houses to avoid their fights, but Harry has nowhere to go so he crouches in the corner of his bedroom, behind his bed, and listens as his parents’ voices grow louder and louder, until they are yelling uncontrollably.

He covers his ears, tries to block the harsh words, but he can still hear.

“You’re overreacting,” his father shouts. “He is seven years old! It’s normal!”

“It’s not normal, Des! Dr. Johnston says it should have gone by now.”

Louis walks through the bedroom door and sits next to Harry. “Hi,” he whispers.

Harry says nothing, just lays his head over his friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t care about your son!” His mother yells. “You’re so calm, like there’s nothing wrong with him! You really don’t care!”

Harry’s eyes fill with tears, and Louis rocks him in his place, whispering quiet words into his ear. He doesn’t get much of it, just some weak “it’ll be alright” and “don’t worry” that drown in the sea of his parents’ words.

 

**_May 2001._ **

Harry’s father is leaving today. Des and Anne seat Harry and Gemma in the living room and tell them with quiet words and dry voices that their dad is leaving, that they think they shouldn’t be together anymore.

Harry cries. He hugs his dad and he begs him to stay, and Gemma is right there with him. His father hugs them both and promises that he loves them, but he also doesn’t stay.

That afternoon he takes his things and go.

Harry curls at night in bed, Louis by his side, and cries himself to sleep.

 

**_August 2007._ **

Harry slams the door behind him and throws his rucksack on the floor before falling on his bed and burying his face in the pillow. Louis puts a comforting hand on his shoulder and rubs it gently while Harry cries, until he relaxes enough to turn around and look at his best friend. “They hate me,” he tells Louis.

“They don’t hate you, Haz,” Louis says with soft voice. “They just don’t know you.”

Harry shifts to make place for Louis, and his friend sits next to him and opens his arms for a hug. Harry smiles a little and climbs into his lap, allowing himself to relax in Louis’ arm. “They think I’m crazy,” he says, sadness dripping from his voice.

“So what?” Harry turns around at the sound of Louis’ firm voice. He finds his friend’s face hard and angry. “So what if they think that? They’re just the kids in your school. You have your mother and Gemma and your dad, and you have me. So why do you care what they think?”

Harry looks down. “Mum and dad think I’m crazy too. They make me see Robert every week. Stacy says only freaks go to see psychologists.”

“Harry, look at me,” Louis asks. When Harry meets his gaze, he says, “You are the most amazing person I know. You are not crazy.” Harry can hear firmness and gentleness and worry and love all mixed in his voice.

And suddenly he realizes just how close his face is to Louis’.

“Can I try something?” Louis asks quietly, his eyes on Harry’s mouth.

Harry nods, and then Louis’ lips are on his and he feels like he’s burning under the older boy’s touch. Harry watched people kiss in movies, and he remembers his parents kissing when his was younger, but he always thought it was disgusting. Now, though. Now he understands why people like it so much, why it means so much to them.

He fists Louis’ shirt and holds on to the kiss until Louis pulls back. His eyes are warm and full of fondness. “You’re not crazy. You’re perfect,” he says.

 

**_January 2008._ **

“How am I even supposed to do this damn thing?” Harry asks in annoyance as he holds the can of shaving cream in one hand and the brand new razor in the other. This is one of the chances he wishes he still had his dad constantly around.

“Here,” Louis says and takes the can from Harry’s hand. “Wet you cheeks and your neck, not too much.” He wets his hand as well and then pours the blue gel on it. “Come here,” he tells Harry, and when the younger lad turns to face him he starts rubbing it on his face.

Harry doesn’t like the feeling of the cream, but he likes Louis’ hand on him. He closes his eyes and drowns in the gentleness of his rubs.

“Now, wet the razor a little and shave the cream off.”

With Louis’ instructions, Harry finishes shaving for the first time in his life. He cuts himself only twice, and he’s proud of it.

*

Harry’s mother takes him to see Robert later that day, and Harry tells Louis goodbye in his room. Louis will leave when they’re gone, to avoid Anne. She still doesn’t like him, even though Harry has tried telling her how great Louis really is.

Robert hasn’t changed much since Harry first met him, a fact that amuses him every time seeing how much he himself changed over the years. He even still has the same pair of glasses, as much as Harry can tell.

“How are you, Harry?” he asks when Harry sits in his regular place on the single couch.

“I shaved today,” Harry tells him with a smile. Despite knowing his parents make him see Robert because they think something’s wrong with him, he’s grown very fond of the man. Robert always seems to enjoy listening to Harry, whether he laughs or cries or just talks about his days.

Robert smiles. “Already that big?” he asks. “Lord, I remember you as a six-year-old, sitting right there on that couch. Did your dad show you how to do it?”

Harry shakes his head. “Louis did. He’s started shaving years ago.”

Robert smiles, though Harry sees some worry in his eyes. “That’s good,” he says.

 

**_February 2010._ **

It’s Harry’s birthday, and he celebrates by stealing a bottle from his mother’s cabinet and drinking it at midnight in his room with Louis. They both giggle as they open the cap and take their first sips straight off the bottle. It is Harry’s first time drinking, but Louis says he got drunk before.

The alcohol affects him quickly, and soon he’s burying his face in his pillow to muffle the laughter. Nothing is funny, really, but the excitement of doing something he shouldn’t be doing – and doing it with Louis – makes his blood boil and his heart race, and he feels like laughter is the way to let it all out.

“Hey there, big boy,” Louis says and takes the bottle from Harry’s hands, putting it on the ground after Harry almost spills it all over himself and the bed. “Go easy. You’ve had enough for your first time.”

Harry crawls over to him and falls on his lap. “Lou?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.”

Louis does, and Harry can, even for a short while, forget that he won’t celebrate his birthday tomorrow because he has no friends other than Louis.

 

**_July 2010._ **

Harry is nervous as hell, and nothing can change that right now. He looks at Louis with his bottom lip between his teeth. He only stops chewing on it when he tastes blood on his tongue.

“What’s going on with you?” Louis asks worriedly, patting Harry’s shoulder.

“Lou, you’ve been my best friend for what? Eleven years now?” he asks.

Louis frowns. “I’d like to think that we were more than friends these last couple of years.”

“Yeah. We were. We are.”

“Okay, then. Good.”

Harry nods. “Good. Yeah. So, I was thinking… maybe we could take things to the… next level?”

Louis looks him straight in the eyes. “You want to have sex?”

The younger boy reddens and drops his eyes to his lap, where his fingers are fiddling with the hem of his shirt, but he nods.

“Are you sure?”

Harry nods again.

“Hazza, look at me.” When Harry does as Louis asks, he repeats. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Harry says. “I’m sure.”

 

**_August 2010._ **

Harry knew telling Robert he had sex with Louis would just cause troubles, but he just couldn’t stop himself. He had no friends to tell, and Robert was the closest thing to it. And he _really_ needed to tell someone.

This is why Harry is waiting in the hallway outside Robert’s clinic right now as his mom is inside, talking to his therapist. He sighs and sits down on the floor, his back leaning on the wall.

“He’s been seeing you for over ten years!” his mother’s voice suddenly breaks the silence, and Harry flinches. There is a small pause in which Harry assumes Robert answers, and then she yells again. “He says he had intercourse with this boy! How is this even possible?” Harry can hear the frustration and helplessness in her voice, and he buries his head in his hands.

It’s quiet after that, and a few minutes later the door opens. “Ms. Cox, please consider it again,” Robert says as Harry’s mother leaves the room.

“I’ll drop Harry off here again next week, Robert. Have a nice week.”

*

“Harry, let’s talk.”

Harry looks up from his computer screen to see his mother standing at his door. He nods wordlessly, and she enters his room and closes the door behind her before taking a seat on his bed.

“Honey, I want to talk to you about Louis,” she says, hesitant, as if afraid the mention of his boyfriend’s name will break a dam that’s been holding a whole river of emotions and words for years.

“I heard you yelling at Robert,” Harry says, not caring to hide his bitterness. “I know you don’t like Louis, but mum – this is _my_ choice.” It could have come out harsher, but instead his tone is weak and quivering and he feels his eyes fill with tears.

“Harry, I don’t care who you sleep with. As long as you know what you’re doing and you stay safe I’m fine with it. But Louis – honey, with Louis it’s different.”

“You’ve never even given him a chance!” Harry yells and jumps from his chair. “Mum, the moment he walked through the front door all those years ago you decided he was some kind of disease I shouldn’t let inside this house!” He blinks the tears away, refusing to look weak at this particular moment.

“Please sit down,” she begs him. “I don’t want to fight with you, I just want to talk.” Harry does as she says. “Do you know why your father and I set you up with appointments with Robert when you were just a child?”

Harry opens his mouth, ready to reply with a snarky answer, when he realizes that, no, he doesn’t know. All he really knows is that his parents thought something was wrong with him and wanted to fix it, and when it didn’t work – apparently, seeing that Harry still meets his therapist on a weekly basis – they split up. Because of him. They got divorced because of him.

“Darling, you have problems,” Anne says. “Everyone has problems, but yours are a little different. We thought maybe Dr. Johnston will be able to help you.”

“Mum, all I do when I see Robert is talk to him. Whatever problem that you believe I have, it does not exist. If it did, don’t you think I’d know about it?”

“I just want you to stop seeing Louis,” she says.

And, really, Harry has no idea what that has to do with what they’re talking about. He says as much.

“He’s got everything to do with it!” she says, closing her eyes in what seems to be frustration. “He _is_ the problem.”

“How dare you!” Harry yells, rising to his feet again. “He’s my boyfriend, mum! My best friend! He’s been here for me when no one else was! He was there when I had no friends and when you and dad fought all the time and when you got divorced because of me! He was there and he supported me and he loved me when I needed it. He still loves me now.” The tears he’s been holding back since the conversation started suddenly break out, and he feels them running down his cheeks.

“I love him,” he whispers, begging for her to understand.

“Harry,” she says and gets up from the bed. She’s wrapping her arms around him, and even though they’re in the middle of a fight they probably should have had years ago, he feels safe in them. “Your father and I did not get a divorce because of you. Or your sister. It wasn’t any of you guys’ faults, and I don’t want you to ever think that.

“Sometimes people just fall out of love. It has nothing to do with you.”

She keeps reassuring him that, and somehow that’s how their argument ends. It seems like his mother decides to just leave the matter.

*

“Harry?” Gemma asks that night, standing at his door. His sister is usually confident and bold, but right now she looks so small it hurts.

Harry opens his arms for her and she crawls onto his bed, letting him hug her tight. She’s older, but he has a bigger body, and she fits there perfectly.

“It’s not our fault,” she says, her voice muffled by his chest. They lay in silence, and just before he falls asleep, she whispers, “and I don’t have a problem with Louis. I’d really love to meet him one day.”

 

**_September 2011._ **

There is a new guy in Harry’s science class. He has a bleached blond hair and bright blue eyes, and it seems like everywhere he looks at shines brighter. “He’s like sunshine,” Harry tells Louis one day, as they lie in Harry’s bed and watch Love Actually – “Really, Haz? _Again_?” – cuddled in each other’s arms, and Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“Why won’t you talk to him?” Louis mumbles quietly. “You could use a friend, and he sounds great.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, you should see how many friends he already has. He doesn’t need me.”

Louis says nothing, but Harry can hear the _‘but you need him’_ floating in the air long after the movie is finally over.

 

**_October 2011._ **

“Hey,” someone says and sits next to Harry.

Harry raises his head from where it was lying on the table and sees the blond boy smiling at him. “Hi,” he answers.

The boy offers Harry is hand. “Haven’t got the chance to introduce myself yet,” he says with a bright smile. “I’m Niall. You’re Harry, right?”

“Ah, yes,” Harry says, surprised to learn the boy knows his name, and shakes his hand. “How do you know?”

Niall points at Harry’s schoolbag hanging from the back rest of his chair. “It’s written right there. ‘Harry Styles’. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Harry says.

Niall sits next to him during class, and Harry is so not used to having someone in the seat next to him that he keeps sending glances at Niall.

“Hey, want to have lunch with me?” Niall asks when the period’s over.

And it’s easy as that. For the first time in his life, Harry has a friend that is not Louis.

 

**_December 2011._ **

“-and his mother is so nice, Lou. She made us these little sandwiches for dinner – supper tasty – and she let us play FIFA in the living room.”

“That sounds great, Haz,” Louis says with a smile. “I’m really happy for you.”

Harry kisses him. “I’ve never had more than one friend before,” he says. “It just… it feels so… overwhelming.”

 

**_May 2012._ **

Harry sits with Niall on one of the benches behind the science building during lunch break. The blond boy is more fidgety today, and he keeps staring at Harry for long moments before shaking his head and focusing on their conversation again.

“We’ll keep in touch during summer, right? You’re not from those who disappear the moment school’s over?” He asks at some point.

“Of course,” Harry laughs. “Not gonna get rid of me that easily.”

Niall smiles. He closes his eyes for a short moment and then opens them and looks Harry in the eyes. “Harry, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.”

Harry raises an eyebrow in question.

A moment later Niall closes the distance between them and kisses him, and – wow. Harry has only ever kissed Louis, and the firm lips that kiss him now are a clear contrast to Louis’ soft ones. Niall is determined, and obviously experienced, and it’s just so different from Harry’s first kiss with Louis when he was thirteen.

He lays his hand on Niall’s chest and pushes him back. “Niall, I can’t – I don’t –“

“Shit,” Niall spits, standing up and starting pacing back and forth in front of the small bench. “Damn it, Harry, I’m sorry. I thought –“

“No, no! That’s okay, really,” Harry reassures him, although it’s really not. “It’s just… I have a boyfriend.”

Niall stops his pacing and raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You do?”

Harry nods. “His name is Louis. We’ve been together for like, five years now?”

“Shit.” He sits down again. “I didn’t know, Harry I’m so sorry. You’ve never mentioned him before.”

And, okay. Wow. Harry used to _always_ talk about Louis – with his sister, with Robert, even with his parents back when they still listened. He always talks about Louis, so how is it he hasn’t mentioned his boyfriend’s name for over six months to his only other friend?

“I’m sorry. We’re cool, right?” Niall apologizes again.

Harry smile. “We’re cool.”

*

Harry tells Robert about the kiss, and for a reason Harry can’t understand, his therapist looks so happy to hear about it. He was never all too happy to hear about Louis, always just politely curious. But he’s glowing when Harry tells him about Niall.

What is it with everyone around him that they hate Louis so much?

 

**_June 2012._ **

Harry holds it in for exactly one month and two days before bursting it out after a heated kiss with Louis. “Niall kissed me,” he says, not meeting Louis’ gaze.

Louis hooks a finger under Harry’s chin and forces the curly boy to look him in the eyes. There is no anger in them, no betrayal or disappointment. There’s only a shadow of sadness. “When?”

“About a month ago?” It comes out more as a question.

Louis nods. “Did you like it?”

Harry narrows his eyes with confusion. “No,” he says, firmly. “I love you, Lou. I stopped him right away. I told him I had a boyfriend.”

Louis nods again. “Okay,” he says. “I trust you.”

Harry smiles and kisses him again, dragging Louis over to the bed.

 

**_November 2012._ **

“You’re drifting away from me,” Louis says one day when they lie together in Harry’s bed. His voice is quiet and somewhat sad. He trails meaningless patterns over Harry’s arm.

“I’m right here, Lou,” Harry says, a little bit confused; a little bit lost.

Louis sighs. “You’re becoming closer and closer with that Horan kid.” He doesn’t sound angry, and maybe that annoys Harry just a little. Louis _should_ be angry if Harry is spending more time with other boys, shouldn’t he?

Louis untangles his limbs from Harry’s and stands up. “I think I’m gonna go now,” he declares.

“Lou,” Harry begs. “I love you. Niall – he’s just a friend.”

Louis smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s good. I’m happy that you have another friend.” And then, muttering under his breath so Harry can barely hear, he adds, “soon you won’t need me anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Louis shrugs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Haz.” With a final chaste kiss to Harry’s lips, he walks out the door.

 

**_January 2013._ **

“I like Niall,” Harry tells Robert, flinching at his own words. Admitting it feels a lot like betraying Louis.

Robert nods. “You like him as a friend? Or more than that?”

Harry shrugs. “More than that, I think. He’s… he’s truly great, you know?”

“So what’s wrong?” After thirteen years – _thirteen!_ Harry can barely believe this – of weekly sessions, Robert probably knows Harry enough to know something’s off. He knows him better than everyone. Except for Louis – Louis knows Harry better than Harry knows himself.

“What about Louis?” Harry asks, desperate. He’s been trying to organize his thoughts for months, but he can’t seem to decide what he wants to do with his feelings for Niall. Because he likes Niall, but he’s _in love_ with Louis.

Robert sighs. “Harry, I think it’s time we have a conversation I’ve been waiting to have with you ever since you walked into this room for the first time,” he says.

Harry stares at him. “You’ve been waiting thirteen _years_ to talk to me about something?”

Robert intertwines his fingers and lays his chin on his hands in a familiar way. It’s his ‘let’s get serious’ position. “Do you have Louis’ phone number?” he asks.

Harry frowns. “He doesn’t have a phone.”

“A Skype username, then?”

Harry shakes his head. “He doesn’t have one.”

“How do you guys talk to each other? Do you talk over Facebook? Twitter?”

“No, we just… he comes over.”

Robert nods. “And have you ever been to his house?”

“No,” Harry says, confused as to where this conversation is heading. “He comes to my place.”

“Have you ever met his family?”

Again, Harry shakes his head.

Robert leans forward and grabs Harry’s hands, looking him straight in the eye. “Harry dear, you and Louis have been friends for almost fifteen years, yet you’ve never met his family and never visited his home. The only way the two of you contact each other is talking face to face. Do you even know where he lives? What his parents’ names are? How many siblings he has? Who are his other friends?”

Harry opens and closes his mouth, unable to say anything; unable to form coherent thoughts. He notices his hands are shaking, and on instinct pulls them out of Robert’s grasp and into his lap.

“Harry, think about it. I can’t say it for you, you have to say it yourself.”

But Harry can’t even put an order to his thoughts. Because what Robert says – it doesn’t make any sense. Harry knows Louis, has been friends with him ever since he was a five-year-old who had no one to play with.

“I need to go,” he says, standing up and backing away towards the door. A thought runs through his mind that he probably looks like a scared fawn, but it soon drowns in all the other thoughts and images.

“Harry –“ Robert starts calling, but Harry is already out the door.

*

When Harry comes home that night, after wandering the streets aimlessly, his mother rushes over towards him and pulls him into a tight hug. “Thank God, you’re okay. Robert called and I was so worried. Where have you been?”

And Harry lets the tears fall. He wraps his arms around his mother and shuts his eyes, sobbing into the crook of her neck.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she says while patting his head. “It’s alright.”

 

**_February 2013._ **

“It’s in my head, isn’t it?” Harry asks.

His mother sits on the double couch in Robert’s clinic, and they both look at him with pitying eyes.

Harry clears his throat. “Louis, that is. He’s not real.”

Anne shakes her head. “No, honey. He’s not.”

Harry nods, and silence follows it. He had spent two weeks trying to make sense out of everything, leaving his bed only to use the toilet and take occasional showers. He skipped school, his mother probably told his teachers he was ill since no one called. He knows she was worried about him. He also knows Robert told her to let him as much time as he needs to figure it out alone.

“How is it possible?” he asks when the silence drags on. He meets his mother’s eyes, then Robert’s. “How could I imagine everything? Louis – we hugged, we kissed. We had sex, for Christ’s sake!”

None of them says anything, and Harry’s knows it’s because he doesn’t need their answer. It’s hard, and it’s confusing more than anything, but his memories with Louis start wearing different shapes.

Like the time he first shaved: Harry remembers Louis’ hand on his face, rubbing the shaving cream, and his gentle instructions. But other images break through the screen of the memory – Harry pouring the cream on his hand and rubbing it alone, talking to a person who is not there.

Or the time he got drunk on his sixteenth birthday: Louis drank with him, he made sure Harry didn’t drink too much, and he took the bottle from him when he thought he had enough. Now Harry sees himself putting the bottle on the floor before snuggling into his pillows, thinking they were a warm body that held him back.

The new realizations make his head hurt, and his heart ache, because if Louis was never there, then Harry has always been alone. Louis was his only friend until Niall came along, and if he isn’t real then Harry spent his entire childhood alone, and it fucking _hurts_.

“I’m in love with him,” he whispers to his mother, voice desperate as if it was possible to make Louis real by begging enough; by wanting him to be real so much that he actually became one.

She shakes her head. “No, darling. It’s only in your imagination.”

*

“Harry.”

“Go away.”

“Harry, please.”

Harry refuses to open his eyes. “You’re not real,” he whispers into his pillow. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.” He repeats the words like a mantra.

“I’m real as long as you need me to be real,” Louis says.

Harry finally turns around on his bed and looks at him. “What does that even mean?”

Louis looks sad. “You were lonely, Harry. And then you created me and you weren’t alone anymore. You needed a friend, so I was your friend.”

“You couldn’t have told me?” Harry asks, tears forming in his eyes. He cries a lot these days.

Louis shakes his head. “Haz, I’m just a part of you that you let out. I know what you know. I didn’t know I wasn’t real until you accepted it.”

“I –“

A knock on his door disturbs him, and his mother opens it. “Honey, a friend of yours has come to visit. Should I let him come up here?”

“Niall?” he asks.

She nods, a soft smile on her face.

Harry glances at Louis, knowing his mother notices and not really caring. Louis nods wordlessly. “Yes,” Harry says.

When she closes the door Harry turns to Louis again. “Why is this happening now? Why did I realize everything now?”

“Because you don’t need me anymore,” Louis answers, soft and fond and warm. “You’ve been going through this process ever since you met Niall. You’ve been… drifting away from me.”

A tear leaves Harry’s eye, making its way down his cheek and finally falling on his collarbone.

“I love you, Harry,” Louis says as he starts fading into the air.

Harry lets out a sob. “I’ll never see you again, aren’t I?”

Louis shakes his head.

“I love you,” Harry says, and on that moment Louis completely fades away and the door to his room is being opened again, revealing a nervous looking Niall.

“Hi,” he says, biting his bottom lip.

Harry stares at him for a moment, and then the dam is broken and he cries uncontrollably.

Niall hurries over to him. “Hey. Hazza, hey. What’s wrong?”

Harry fists Niall’s shirt in his hands and pulls him closer, sobbing into the fabric. Niall hugs him and whispers quiet, comforting words, and Harry just cries, because Louis is gone forever and it’s both freeing and terrifying simultaneously.

But Niall is there, and he holds Harry until he calms down.

 

**_March 2013._ **

Harry doesn’t tell Niall, and Niall stops asking as soon as he understands that Harry doesn’t want to talk about it. Harry hasn’t come back to school yet, but Niall keeps coming over at least three times a week.

She says nothing, but Harry knows his mum is happy to see the Irish boy every time he shows up. He thinks he can understand her. She had to watch her own son going crazy for over a decade (she promises she doesn’t think he’s crazy. Harry’s not sure he believes her), and now he finally starts to get better.

Late March, Niall shows up with a small wrapped package, about the size of a match box. He shrugs and hands it over to Harry when the younger boy sends him a questioning look. “I missed your birthday.”

A soft smile plays on Harry’s lips. “Thank you,” he says. He unwraps the package and finds a small crimson jewelry box. Inside there is a delicate silver necklace with a little cross. It’s beautiful. He looks back at Niall. “Thank you,” he repeats.

Niall blushes and sits next to him. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome.”

Harry carefully takes the necklace out of the box and wears it. As he touches the small pendant, he decides to never take it off. Because it’s the first gift a friend has ever given him, and it means the world to him.

 

**_June 2013._ **

Niall wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and plants a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “It’s over, Haz!” he yells, his happy face looking like the sun itself. “No more high school!”

Harry laughs. “I think you’re overreacting,” he says, but the truth is students all around them are just as happy. Harry finds it hard to be really happy these days, but Niall makes everything better, and slowly but surely Harry starts to get over what he now calls “the Louis-phase”.

Niall shakes his head in disbelief, but the smile never leaves his face, and suddenly Harry really wants to kiss him. He hesitates, and he is sure he’s going to chicken out until the moment his lips actually touch Niall’s.

It’s nothing serious, just a few seconds of attached lips, but Harry’s heart races like he just ran a marathon.

Niall isn’t smiling anymore. Instead, he gapes at Harry with his mouth open and his eyes wide. Harry waits for him to say something, because he thinks he might vomit if he opened his mouth right now.

“You have a boyfriend,” is what Niall says eventually.

Harry takes a deep breath, and then shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”

“You lied?” Niall asks with a frown. “Broke up?” he guesses again when Harry shakes his head.

“No, it’s… it’s really complicated, Ni, and I will tell you one day, but… not right now, okay? I’m not ready.”

Niall nods. “Whenever you feel like it,” he says with a fond smile. They look at each other wordlessly for a long moment, then he says, “You can do it again. Kiss me, that is. Only if you want to.”

Harry smiles, and for the first time in the last few months, he thinks he might be _fine_. He takes a step forward, closing the gap between his and Niall’s bodies, and kisses him again.

Somewhere in his head, he thinks he may hear a faint voice whispering, _I’m happy for you_. A faint voice of a young, blue-eyed boy, who had the nicest smile and the kindest eyes, and who played with Harry when no one else did.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think?


End file.
